


concurrent

by MicrosuedeMouse



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Fluff and Angst, Identity Reveal, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 03:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20419382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MicrosuedeMouse/pseuds/MicrosuedeMouse
Summary: “Tell me about him,” he asks her, impulsively. He’s not sure why. It seems like he’s only trying to make it hurt more. But then, he also wants to know what kind of person could capture his Lady’s heart. He respects the man, in an odd kind of way.





	concurrent

**Author's Note:**

> I watched a lot of scattered episodes of season one with my best friend a few years ago and enjoyed it a lot. Recently I've been catching up on the parts I haven't seen, and the other night I couldn't get this scenario out of my head. It's definitely short, but I like it a lot.

“I’m... sorry, _chaton_.” Ladybug shakes her head, and as much as it hurts his heart, he can see in her eyes that it hurts hers too. “I care about you. I do. So much. But I... need to sort out my feelings for someone else.”  
  
He wants to be jealous. To be angry. But he can’t – he cares too much about her. So he takes a step back, and then he sits down. “He’s lucky,” he tells her softly.  
  
She laughs, but it’s not an entirely mirthful sound. It’s– frustrated. Bittersweet. “That’s... kind of you to say,” she answers, her voice almost strangled.  
  
“Tell me about him,” he asks her, impulsively. He’s not sure why. It seems like he’s only trying to make it hurt more. But then, he also wants to know what kind of person could capture his Lady’s heart. He respects the man, in an odd kind of way.  
  
“Oh, _Chat_,” she answers, brow furrowed. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”  
  
“I’m asking as your friend,” he says softly, almost plaintively. “It seems like you have so much on your mind. Let me help lighten the load.”  
  
She glances away, bites her lip, tucks a stray hair behind her ear. Her eyes are damp, he realises; they’re shining a little in the bright moonlight. She_ is_ going through a lot.   
  
“He’s beautiful,” she finally says, slowly. “I didn’t see it at first, but that’s only because I misjudged him. I think sometimes he’s lonely. But he’s so kind. I really believe he has so much good in his heart. He’s patient with me even though I’m usually a mess whenever I try to talk to him. I... I think he considers me a friend.” She rubs her arms self-consciously. “But I don’t know if he’ll ever think of me as more than that. I don’t know if it’s ever even crossed his mind.”  
  
“I’m sure it must have,” he tells her. “I can’t imagine how it _couldn’t_ have.” Then he bites his tongue, because that admission seems to have stressed her out even more.  
  
“I wish I knew,” she finally sighs. “Then maybe, if nothing else, I could at least move on.”  
  
They’re silent for a moment. “What’s his name?” he eventually asks. He doesn’t know why. She’s always so worried about admitting anything about her civilian life. When she glances his way, he can tell she’s thinking it – that she shouldn’t answer. That it’s too risky.  
  
And then she sighs again. “Adrien,” she murmurs, in a voice so small he scarcely hears it. Even when he does, he can’t quite believe his ears.  
  
Is it possible?  
  
He stares at her with new eyes, mind racing. Surely there are hundreds of Adriens in Paris, but still, what if – and suddenly it all clicks into place. There she is, right in front of him. Of course. _What a fool he’s been._  
  
He can’t breathe.  
  
“Plagg, detransform,” he manages after a moment.  
  
Ladybug starts, her head whipping back round toward him. “_Chat, what_–”  
  
He doesn’t give her the time.  
  
“Marinette, it’s _me_.” And he leans into her again, catching her mouth with his own. He can’t stop himself. It’s rash and irresponsible, but god, he _loves_ her. This only confirms it, solidifies it. She tries to gasp but all she gets is a mouthful of his breath.  
  
“Tikki–” She doesn’t even have to actually say it. The mask and the suit melt away and there she is – his Lady, his partner, his classmate, his friend. The love of his life. That she, Ladybug, and she, Marinette, should be one and the same... of course.  
  
“I should have seen it sooner,” he tells her, one hand cupping her neck. He thinks he might cry. But Marinette, of all people, won’t hold that against him – of this much he’s certain.  
  
She looks confused, disarmed. “How...”  
  
Whether she’s asking how he could’ve known sooner or how he worked it out today or even how this is possible, he doesn’t care. His answer is the same. “I fell for both of you,” he says, reaching with his free hand to take one of hers. “I’ve loved Ladybug since day one, but Marinette, she grew on me over time. She became my friend so quickly, and then with every passing day I saw more of her heart and she became a little dearer to mine.”  
  
“What?” She looks dazed. Disbelieving. He can’t blame her; this is a lot to take in.  
  
“Marinette, please,” he says, almost _begs_, his palm slipping from her neck to her cheek. “Tell me you meant what you said. Tell me you love me as much as I love you.”  
  
She blinks, and he can feel her face heating up beneath his hand. And then she says something that makes him laugh aloud: “How much... how much do you love me?”  
  
“Oh, _Marinette_,” he answers when he recovers his breath. “I love your strength, your bravery, your cleverness. I love your creativity and your art. I love when you’re soft-spoken and when you’re loud and stubborn. I love your devotion to the wellbeing of others. I love your quiet, endless, so often unacknowledged kindness. I love everything _about_ you, Marinette, when you’re Ladybug and when you’re not. I love you more than I ever knew it was possible to love someone.” A dramatic confession for a boy of eighteen, perhaps, but he’s been known to be dramatic at times. Every word of it is still _true_.  
  
She’s beaming, then, and she’s crying. Seeing her tears tumble down her cheeks, feeling them catch against the heel of his palm, is the thing that finally tips him over the edge and gets _him_ weeping, too.  
  
“I love you, too, Adrien,” she answers, placing a hand over his and leaning her face into it. “_Chat_. More than I can even tell you.”  
  
He laughs a little bit, giddy with it all. “Marinette,” he says again, and she only smiles more, and he leans in and kisses her again. Long and lingering and joyful. Because Ladybug is Marinette and Marinette _loves_ him.  
  
She lets him pull her close, too happy to stop. There, at the peak of a townhouse rooftop, Adrien finally knows what it is to be truly, unconditionally loved. He only hopes he can love her enough in return.


End file.
